Submission
by El Dorado
Summary: Janus doesn't know his place, Leehalt makes the dog behave. Leehalt x Janus


Janus manages to flash Melody a brief but smug grin, just before the Gias bomb goes off inside of him. Pain hums thick and sharp through every bone in his body but he's still basking in the triumph. "Come on now, dearheart!" he gurgles, working his pain-rigid jaw. "You can't expect me to bow to someone as frenzied as you!"

Melody howls. She raises her dainty hand higher, and every single cell in his body burns. Pure agony breaks him out of human face: he stands there, still smiling, with his demon canines dripping spit. Janus's wildly darting eyes can no longer focus on her face but he imagines Melody's pretty features contort with rage. Victory is so very sweet.

At the back of Janus's mind, there is a blunt pressure creeping into his consciousness. Blood oozes out of his mouth, slides slick with mucus out of his nose, and trickles warmly out of his ears. Sparks of light as bright as Gias itself, flash behind his closed eyes. Overwhelming is the smell of burnt: burnt hair and burnt skin.

Panic hits him low in the fluttering muscles of his gut. The crazy bitch is going to kill him and all he can do is laugh, high with fear. Janus's mind is swimming. Pain is eating away at the very matter of his body. He's floating away from this demon vessel.

…If he were to die now, if he were to die laughing, would it be so bad? Janus laughs harder, near hysteria, heart pounding. He is going to die. He laughs, and he hurts all over and he's scared shitless. He is going to die: laughing, free, victorious.

Suddenly the pain stops.

Janus's body flops to the ground with a hollow thud. Faint echoes of pain are still coursing through his system, but the worse is over. Relief washes over him as he watches the trailing robes of his savior edge closer to his fallen form. Staring dumbly at Leehalt's lily-white feet, Janus's eyes slip shut. The light in his mind finally clicks off.

And all is darkness.

o o o

A muffled, tuneful voice arrives on waves of consciousness. It is a man's voice, but mirth pitches it higher, like the chime of a single bell. Janus holds onto it for dear life.

"The coagulated blood on his various orifices could point to internal bleeding." the voice cheers with inordinate glee. "The internal bleeding could point to severe brain damage." Janus can hear the smile in man's voice as he continues. "Final product: vegetable-lapdog-Janus!" A pensive hum. "Oh well, at least he'll be obedient!"

Janus's eye twitches from beneath an eyelid.

"Malik, be quiet," a deeper voice commands. The speaker cradles Janus's head in a single large hand. The tangible power behind those calloused fingers is familiar. "He's waking up," Leehalt says.

Leehalt threads his cold fingers into the blood-clotted hairs at the back of Janus's neck. His blunt nails tickle Janus's sensitive skin. Janus whines softly, and Leehalt lets out a short derisive snort. Leehalt's hand slides forward to cup Janus's chin. "Wake up."

"Maybe you should try and get his attention," suggests Malik. "Shake him," he adds gleefully. Janus's tongue jolts in his mouth, trying to word a protest.

Leehalt shakes Janus gently. Janus groans. Stop it. Leehalt shakes him harder and Janus hisses. Please stop. "Wake up, Janus," commands Leehalt, tossing him side to side, like a rag doll. Janus moans pathetically. Please stop. Stop please. He moves his mouth. Speak! Leehalt rattles him harder.

"Stop it! Stop!" blurts Janus, finally coaxing his dead tongue to life. His eyes snap open. His legs are numb with pain but he manages to shift them. He clenches and unclenches his fingers. "See? I'm awake," he slurs, "So cut it out. I'm awake!"

Leehalt's golden eyes gleam hotly. Worry crawls across Janus's skin, as Leehalt's eyes rake across his prone form. "You're half asleep," states Leehalt coldly. "Get up."

Janus shakes his head. "I can't!" The muscles in his legs are slack and every tissue of his body aches dully. Leehalt is still holding his jaw in a sure still grip. "But if I _could_ stand, I wouldn't let you fucking manhandle me!"

"Well, his mental functions seem to be in order," interrupts Malik. He smiles and his bright blue eyes light up. "Still not the brightest crayon in the box, but he has spunk!"

"Go to hell," fumes Janus. Leehalt's grip on his chin tightens warningly. Janus growls. "Cut it out! Let go of me," he seethes with clenched teeth. Leehalt grinds the hinges of his jaw together. Janus fixes Leehalt with a withering glare.

Leehalt loosens his grip and lazily strokes Janus's smarting jaw. It's distracting. "As much as you deplore my 'manhandling' I can't help but notice you haven't tried to get up by yourself," he points out. "Maybe you need some help?" Pressing his other hand at he small of Janus's back, Leehalt hoists him up into a sitting position. A sharp shock of pain courses through Janus's body. He winces. "Get up," repeats Leehalt mercilessly.

"I can't," Janus reminds him, still scowling. "Stupid wanker."

Leehalt slaps him roughly across the face. Janus's skin feels hot from the sting and from the degradation. Leehalt runs his thumb against the sharp line of the man's cheekbone. "Pain can be a great motivator," threatens Leehalt, and punctuates his threat with a pinch to the reddened skin. "Now, if you truly can't stand, I _could_ carry you."

Janus imagines the scene briefly: his arms wrapped around Leehalt's neck, and the man's great big hand pressed just above the curve of his arse. "Fuck you," he spits.

Leehalt smacks him again, more gently, like one might slap a stubborn woman or a bad dog. He soothes the blow with a feather light touch. Janus's vision blurs with shamed tears. "There's no way I'm letting you carry me like a girl," insists Janus, despite the growing lump in his throat. "My pride won't allow it."

Leehalt continues touching Janus's cheek. His golden eyes hold a sparkle of amusement. "You're worried about your pride?" he questions incredulously. "I mean, just look at you: crumpled on the floor, about to weep like a little child with your handsome face reddened from open-handed slaps. What pride?"

Janus raises his clenched fist but it falls uselessly in his lap. The pain in his arm is crippling. Leehalt punishes him, slapping him across his half-open mouth. Saline tears burn against Janus's aching cheek. A sob escapes his throat.

"He's crying," announces Malik, helpful as usual. Hot shame erupts inside Janus.

"He's been humbled," replies Leehalt, simply. He eyes Janus's face pointedly, nearly appraisingly. He touches the dried tear-tracks and Janus trembles despite himself. "Are you ready to be carried like a girl?" questions Leehalt, stroking Janus's scalp comfortingly.

Janus whimpers, like the lapdog that he is. But he is not tame just yet. "Make me," he barks.

Leehalt rolls his eyes and complies with Janus's request. He lifts Janus up easily, placing a steadying hand right on Janus's arse. Shivers creep up Janus's spine. He stands on wobbly legs, something indescribable pooling low in his belly. His body is still sore, but cold of Leehalt's frame is refreshing.

"Does _this_ hurt your pride?" asks Leehalt, wearing an amused grin.

"Yes," admits Janus, squirming in Leehalt's arms. Struggling makes him ache.

"Do I have to discipline you again?" asks Leehalt, gripping him tighter. Janus closes his eyes, immobilized in the cocoon of Leehalt's arms. "Are you going to behave?" questions Leehalt, swatting Janus's arse, softly, to embarrass.

Janus quivers with displaced emotion. He is feverish with shame and something darker that presses him deeper into Leehalt's embrace. He blinks his watering eyes helplessly. "Woof woof," he replies meekly.

"Good dog," says Leehalt, voice heavy with conquest.

And all is darkness.

o o o


End file.
